As I was walking down the railroad tracks this morning to catch a bus into Seattle, I was greeted by the most beautiful view of the Olympic mountains. Pinks and purples illuminated its snow peaked majesty as it towered over the glistening lake below. The view was spectacular. I thought to myself about how lucky I am to be surrounded by the beauty of the Pacific Northwest. It was a moment where I just stopped to breathe in the wonder of my home. This is a piece of what fills my heart with gratitude upon my return.
Leaving a familiar place is never easy and I don't think it is ever meant to be. It's a reminder that what you've taken a hold of has became yours and it is in fact, a part of you. The last few nights before we flew out were spent reckless and free, soaking in every second with one another. We stayed up running around wildly, playing tag and hide and seek barefoot until the wee hours of the morning. It was as if we had all reverted to our childhood, forgetting the creeping reality of our departure. We laughed hard, soaked in the sun and shared our fears of leaving. A group of us didn't even begin packing our bags until 3am in the early morning before we were leaving. We tried to hold onto every moment, knowing that we would soon have to let it go.
The looks from our house staff is what made it the most difficult as we said our goodbyes. Their saddened faces clung to my heart as our hands swept the air while we waved from the car. I thought about how hard it must be for them to invest so much of their lives into students each semester who inevitably will leave. Goodbyes that don't promise future hellos are truly awful. It didn't help the situation either that the weather the last two days were some of the warmest we had seen in the recent months. The landscape of the hills, brushed kindly with the light of the sun were the images that I wanted to stick with me forever.
Our plane ride was tiring to say the least but it was with the comfort of friends and that made it bearable. We went from Rwanda to Uganda to Ethiopia to Rome to DC. It was 26 hours of flying and watching the sun rise and set in the sky above to bring us back to the motherland. I was dreading it, only because it was here that I knew I would have to part ways from all my new found friends. The majority all live on the East Coast and were a hop, skip and a jump away from home. I on the other hand, had an added 9 hours to travel with only the company of strangers.
Saying goodbye in the airport was beyond bitter, I could only hope sweetness would find its way to me later. They were some of the hardest goodbyes I've given yet. I spent every day with these people for the last four months. We learned together, discovered the rigged, pressing, and difficult things in life, side by side with one another. We shared tears and more laughter than your gut can possibly handle plus the beauty of living and growing in a foreign land. This group of people who were once peculiar strangers quickly became like a tight knit family to us all. Now, as we've spread out across the country we're left with texts, phone calls, and computer images to connect us as we share in the difficulties and particulars of returning.
Being back comes with a new set of challenges and joys. Some days there is a longing and nostalgia that feels as though it could never be quenched. It just sorta drops down into your heart and gut like a heavy stone that you then carry around with you. Other days it feels as though you never even left. I find those days to be the hardest. While life has carried on for the rest of my friends and family, I've gone through an experience that has marked and changed me in ways that are difficult to even begin to describe. Picking up right where I left off is no longer an option after these four months.